


baby, take me to the feeling

by r1ker



Category: Midnight Special
Genre: M/M, the first into uncharted territory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>all i have of this movie is the inklings from the trailer and words from good friends so here we go</p><p>obviously took my liberties with this movie so enjoy</p>
    </blockquote>





	baby, take me to the feeling

**Author's Note:**

> all i have of this movie is the inklings from the trailer and words from good friends so here we go
> 
> obviously took my liberties with this movie so enjoy

Roy's getting Alton off to bed when Lucas steps out onto the porch of yet another hotel the three have found themselves in. Here the night is cool, mild wind somehow finding its way between his jacket and his ribs, and he tries to tug together the leather flaps to guard from it. The gesture ultimately fails and he soon succumbs to the chill while he lights a cigarette.

 

The door behind him opens, the shadows on the welcome mat shifting as a figure steps out, then shuts quietly as Roy emerges triumphant in getting his son to go to sleep. He sidles up behind Lucas, making no effort to initiate any sort of skin-to-skin contact, but his mere presence is enough to make goosebumps prickle on Lucas's neck.

 

"Kid sleeping?" Lucas asks and a shadow on the ground shifts as Roy nods his head in assent. There was no question as to Alton's ability to go to bed at night, despite all that's happened. It always perturbed Lucas as to how a boy like him could search for and successfully find rest at the end of his days, but nonetheless it was an admirable quality.

 

Even not being as affected as him Lucas struggled to get more than four or five hours at a time, mostly spending small stretches awake and sitting on the edge of his bed in their hotel room in contemplation of something unseen. A few times he'd watch Roy sleep, blanket pulled up to his nose and brow finally relaxed after a day spent fretting over the fate of his son.

 

Since money had gotten tight and the arrangement more cramped it was more often than not he and Roy shared a bed, staying just far enough away from one another to keep it amicable. Alton laid spread-eagle in the other bed, the two men deciding to give the young boy his own space, which is something the ones chasing them seemed to want to deny him. The first morning in this particular hotel, one nestled deep in the greens of a town called Pontotoc, Lucas had awoken not to the alarm preset on his wristwatch but to Roy lying against his chest, warm nose pressing into Lucas's chest where it was guarded by a thin white t-shirt.

 

While they are inches apart tonight, nowhere near as close as they were that morning where the sun couldn't seem to be as warm as Roy seemed to Lucas, it's almost as if they're back there again.

 

A nod, another spot of black moving against the ground. "He's real tired tonight," Roy comments in a way stating the obvious that never seemed to go without a restatement each night. They'd let Alton nap, lull himself to sleep reading beneath his blanket or ogling out the window as they ripteared down another Mississippi highway or Alabama back street, but it didn't seem to be enough for the boy. A nap, one a cat would envy greatly, was not sufficient to zap the exhaustion running deep in his bones. "Tomorrow morning I'll load him up and get us back out there even if he is asleep. Almost a crime to wake him up, he's whipped."

 

"Don't blame him," Lucas mumbles, cinders of his cigarette glowing orange in the rich black of the night. A few of its ashes fall to his feet, settle in the cracks of well worn leather shoes, and he sees Roy out of the corner of his eye follow their path to the ground. He grinds out the stub on the edge of his heel, watches the residual heat melt away a little of the rubber not already rubbed away by years of wear, and turns back to Roy. In this light, one that is a stark yellow and flickering from years of neglect and an army of dedicated fireflies dancing around it, Roy's eyes smolder dark. "All I've wanted to do is sleep but he worries me half to death. I feel like you most of the time, don't know how you stand it."

 

"You learn to, after a while," Roy admits in disheartening honesty, a tone that makes something in Lucas tug. Part of him is thankful he never had children – never saw an opportunity or a prospect of a life like that – but the other half is a little disappointed. In this trip he's seen a father do things he never thought were possible. Roy's been stretched thin, thinner than any man has a right to be when entrusted with one of the most special children ever sent to earth by any sort of deity, and for that Lucas aches for him as well.

 

Aches for him in several ways, but for now it is with an air of concern does he fret for his friend.

 

"After a while it's second nature, like putting on socks then shoes or your shirt before a jacket," Roy elaborates once he makes eye contact with Lucas, reuniting their gazes after they strayed in response to Lucas's daydreaming. He regards Lucas with that soft look reserved for him and only him in all the years they've known each other. "I wake up wanting to make sure he's still breathing and I go to bed at night resisting the urge to stick my finger under his nose. Now it's so much worse, so much more radical than I ever thought it would be. And part of me isn't worried at all, I know to ramp it up and keep him close to me, but that other half is just waiting for whatever comes along on whatever the hell this is to find my weak spot and take my boy from me."

 

A trio of crickets feet away from them give their resounding chirps, ones that tap away at the sheet of silence settling over the two men as Lucas processes what his friend has said. Roy's head falls a little, thoroughly resigned to the life he and his son have had no choice but to cooperate with, and Lucas turns to him. Unprompted he puts his hands to Roy's shoulders, solid and warm through his flannel shirt.

 

Roy falls forward to close the distance between them with a sigh, his forehead pressing to Lucas's. So close to one another Lucas can feel and smell everything about him, the notes of the smell of the cheap bar soap melting away into a pink puddle on the ledge in the shower, the sour bite of prepackaged hotel coffee that was too bitter to drink unseasoned as they both liked it, and a soft note that could only be lotion meant to soothe dry hands. The deep breath Lucas takes is both meant to satisfy the burn in his lungs from going long without air but also to take in more of Roy's scent.

 

"You're doing it though," Lucas offers. Roy nods, he's heard it once and he's hearing it once again. To that Lucas sighs, rests one of his hands against Roy's neck, pressing down when the man swallows in response to his touch. Testing the waters Lucas lets his nose brush against Roy's, who tips forward more to usher in a closer contact. Roy lets out a slow breath, in no way adverse to having Lucas all to himself, and he too brings his hand up for more contact. Lucas catches it, presses a kiss to its palm and the spaces between its fingers where they at one point knew Lucas's all too well, and brings it down to rest against his side. Roy nods because he knows Lucas is more than capable in leading the way in other things.

 

They lead, they both lead. Some better than others but for the most part the ground is even, and it most certainly has no cracks or bumps as their mouths come together, Roy tilting his head to compensate for the shapes of their profiles. In all the things he's tasted in his life not one of them is as familiar, and as comforting as Lucas is, and after a while he's forgotten they're standing in the night chill only winters in Mississippi can bring, and they could very well be inside in that scratchy hotel bed, close together by intention and not by accident.

 

Not only is that facet so cherished by Roy but simply the feel of the man's skin, the way he missed parts of his face shaving next to Roy that morning, how he's never had an affinity for anything that could grant his face a drop of moisture in the harsh December weather. If he pays attention close enough he can feel the gentle groove of the scar he watched Lucas earn by running headfirst into a rusty swing set in the city park they knew too well as young boys, and around the kiss he snickers at the memory.

 

Lucas takes heed and pulls back enough to demand into the space between their mouths, "What's so funny?" Roy shakes his head and they return to the kiss, finally pulling apart for good several minutes later when the urge to inhale grew too great to ignore. Lucas finds the lines around Roy's face softened in response to his ministrations, knows he's always been the one to come along and carry the weight of the earth Roy found himself toting over the years, and with that they retire back into the hotel room where Alton sleeps in the other queen sized bed.

 

In the dark they find light by the night light on the lowest outlet in the bathroom, strip off socks and shoes, pants and button-up shirts, in favor of their soft undershirts and boxers. Newfound feelings hovering above the sloppily made up bed the both of them stand in front of, they hesitate before climbing in. Lucas takes the plunge, tucking back the sheets to what he's deemed to be his side of the bed, and soon Roy follows suit.

 

The sheets beneath Lucas's back are cold. He wriggles once against them in an effort to warm them up but once it became apparent that all that was doing was jostling the mattress under the both of them he does what was an accident earlier on. He huddles up close to Roy, urges him to turn onto his side to focus the heat between the two of them. Roy does so gratefully, and with this Lucas falls asleep with one of his thumbs stroking gently at his temple, their breaths quiet next to Alton's in the hotel room.

**Author's Note:**

> the TITLE is from carly rae jepsen's run away with me because didn't you know she wrote this about them


End file.
